Belong
by RachelAutomne
Summary: "I don't belong to you! You can't punish me!" SasoDei/DeiSaso one-shot [prose]


_**Belong**_. Stressed then unstressed. The ringing of church bells; a high and jolly note, then a low, knowing tone. The long is dreaded, for people struggle to admit how they long to be with someone they cannot have.

Sasori exhales, watching the gray strands escape his mouth, swirling and fading from his lonely bed. He had analyzed the word time and time again, searching for a deeper meaning, knowing there was something about the word belong that made it special - unique, even. Breathing out the last of the gray, he stares unknowingly at the ceiling. Smoking had become a recent habit of his, particularly the substances Kakazu sold. Whatever he was taking did no damage to his wooden body, thus he feared nothing. As soon as the last whiff dwindles away, the cigarette returns to his lips. He hopes to see colors in the swirls this time, as Deidara had always ranted about the colors of explosions. Maybe this time, Sasori will be able to those colors. He takes a drag, letting his eyes close, inhaling as much smoke as his artificial lungs can take; he breathes out slowly, opening his eyes to check for color. Now there are specks of green and blue floating aimlessly through the gray. Sasori stares into the small world hidden in smoke, and immediately dreads the possibility of the color leaving, shoving him back to reality. The colors begin to fade, the bright blues reverting to pale skies. He clings to the the last of the hues, reaching through the smoke to force them to stay, but they have vanished. Trying to remember the colors, his mind wanders aimlessly until it finds a memory...

_**Desire**_: _to wish or long for; crave; want._

"And who the hell is this kid?" Sasori snapped through Hiroku to Itachi, irritated at the thought of having a new addition to Akatsuki. Not only a new addition, a child addition. The pip-squeak's head couldn't have been at Itachi's hips. When had the organization chosen to stoop so low? he wondered.

"I'm Deidara!" the boy shouted, his echoes sounding through the caved hideout. He spoke with such passion; his thin body became wildly gesticulate as his blond hair flew in and out of his raging blue eyes. "I'm going to show you true art and get myself out of this hellhole!"

"Tch," Sasori muttered under his breath. "Get this over-with, Itachi."

"Akatsuki wants him," Itachi explained. "He's destroyed many people through bombs and explosions."

"Is that so?" Sasori looked again at the small boy, disbelief on his features - he was grateful that Hiroku kept him hidden, as Deidara was sure to comment. How could a boy so young and small cause such horrid deaths?

"I'll make you a deal," Itachi said to the boy a moment later. "We fight - right here, right now. If I win, you will join Akatsuki. If you win, we will let you pass on."

"I'll do it!" he said loudly, not a trace of speculation in his voice. Sasori rolled his eyes - the kid was smart enough to make himself a well known criminal, yet he didn't know to never fight an Uchiha? He must have been stupid. Itachi broke his thought, staring straight at Deidara. He possessed that power - of unknowingly everyone focus on him. The boy wrinkled his nose, frowning at the man. Sasori knew then Deidara sensed this quality.

"Are we gonna fight or what?!" he yelled impatiently, blond hair striking the air back and forth. Itachi continued to stare, not wanting the child to look into his cold blood pupils, yet his body was demanding. Deidara looked into his red eyes, mouth opening slightly in wonder.

It's over, Sasori thought. The boy shook his head after a moment, trying to rid himself of the all knowing eyes. He reached into a pouch at his hip, pulling from it a wad of white and clenching it continuously. After a moment, a creature was formed - a tiny snake lying in the palm of his hand. A puff of white smoke, and the snake reappeared, this time large enough to wrap around his shoulders. He grinned at Itachi, two fingers at his lips while the snake constricted, slowly enclosing Deidara as it wrapped around his thin frame. Deidara, however, was oblivious to this.

"Any last words?" he threatened, his smile widening. The excitement was overtaking him - Sasori could see his hands twitching, readily impatient for the kill.

"You may want to look again before you do that," Itachi advised. The smile fell; he appeared to be confused till he looked at his own body, finally noticing the serpent strangulating himself. He looked up to Itachi again, jaw dropped. The snake fell to the ground unmoving, once again inanimate. Deidara did not seen to notice.

"You will join Akatsuki," Itachi said calmly, yet it was clearly an order. This broke Deidara from his trance; his face contorted with rage.

"I'll kill you!" he screamed. "I'll kill myself if it means your death!"

"Your new partner will be Sasori," Itachi said, choosing to ignore Deidara's comments.

"Are you kidding me?" Sasori grunted - at least from Hiroku it sounded like a grunt. "Can't someone else take him?"

"Unfortunately not," Itachi said, though he did not portray pity in the slightest. "I must be off; Kisame and I have some business to take care of in the Leaf."

"You're lucky, Uchiha," Sasori grumbled. "You owe me."

"I won't forget," he promised, and walked out of the hideout. Young eyes filled with hatred watched him, sending daggers into Itachi's back. When he faded from view, Deidara turned warily to Sasori, who in turn narrowed Hiroku's eyes at the boy.

"I take it your my partner, then?" Deidara looked troubled, turning round towards man behind him.

"Don't state the obvious," Sasori said. "You know I'm your partner."

"You may be my partner, but I am not your's," Deidara said with a touch of pride. "I don't belong to anyone."

"And I don't belong to you," Sasori shot back. "Now tell me your full name and age."

"Tsukuri Deidara; I'm nine years old," he said, holding up nine fingers and beaming. "I'll be ten next May! What about you, sir?"

"Akasuna Sasori, twenty five." At this the boy's eyes widened; for a moment Sasori dreaded he had said anything. "This isn't my real body," he added quickly. "It's my carapace, it serves as protection-"

"Neat!" Deidara exclaimed, clutching Sasori's cloak and climbing onto Hiroku.

"Get _off_ of me!" he snapped, raising Hiroku's tail to hit the boy. Deidara continued to climb, whilst Sasori tried to hit the child without damaging his precious carapace. It was a burdening task, as Deidara managed to scurry along Hiroku's back like a pest.

"Where are you?" he wondered aloud, still on top of the carapace.

"I'm inside, you incompetent little-"

"Here?" Deidara asked, blue eyes and blond strands filling Sasori'a vision.

"Yes, you twit," he spat. "Now get off of me."

"Or what?" Deidara asked, as if he were expecting a challenge.

"I'll poison you," he threatened. He saw the bottom lids of the boy's eyes raise, as if he were smiling.

"Fine." His surroundings were finally restored. Upon hearing light shoes scape the ground, Sasori turned to face him, raising Hiroku's bony tail towards Deidara.

"Don't ever do that again, you spoiled brat," Sasori warned. "Or there will be consequences."

"I don't belong to you!" Deidara shouted back. "You can't punish me!"

"You're really pushing it," Sasori said through clenched teeth. He lowered the poisoned tail down to the ground, hobbling away, with Deidara following quietly behind.

_**Belong**__:__ To have the proper qualifications, especially social qualifications, to be a member of a group._

"Sasori...! Snap out of it, God-dammit!"

"Who...?" Sasori asks, his voice cracked and dry. He recognizes the voice, but his vision has been reduced to shaky smudges, like that of a stormy sky. He reaches out, touching the cloud in front of him. The familiar feeling of skin.

"I can't believe you're so out of it," the voice says distastefully. "Kakazu."

"Right," Sasori says, sitting up and looking at the dark blur in front of him. "What do you need?"

Something throws his head back, something small but strong. It is Kakazu's fist. "Quit getting wasted on Akatsuki's selling point," Kakazu snaps. Sasori nods, staring back and thinking if the world were a storm, the man in front of him would be a tornado, and Deidara would be a hurricane. "So where have you hidden it?" he hisses.

"I don't know," Sasori croaks, digging his head back into the pillow. He hates to be blamed. "Go away."

"You couldn't look a foot to your left? You're getting pathetic." A sound like brush strokes. "I'm taking these back."

"Fine," he says, his reply muffled by the pillow. Footsteps start again, but they become more and more distant. Before they fade, the sound stops.

"Does this have anything to do with Deidara?"

"Of course not." Sasori had learned to answer "no" to any question involving that name.

"Don't play me for a fool," Kakazu shot back. "Why else would you mope?"

"Puppets," Sasori mutters, finally rolling over so he could be heard. "Getting more difficult."

"So believable, Sasori the Puppet Master," Kakazu says evenly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Deidara is not coming back - not now, not ever." He finally leaves with a disgusted air. Sasori stares at the ceiling once more, trying to escape the cruel world he lived in for one of color.

_**Storm**__: a disturbance of the normal condition of the atmosphere, manifesting itself by winds of unusual force or direction, often accompanied by rain, snow, hail, thunder, and lightning, or flying sand or dust._

"Is that what you really look like?" Deidara asked, seeming to be interested in Sasori's appearance, sitting cross legged on his new bed.

"Somewhat," Sasori admitted, stepping out of his carapace into their room. He couldn't fathom why his partner would interested in such a thing, even if that partner happened to be nine years old.

"Somewhat?" Deidara frowned, tilting his head to one side. Straight blond hair cascaded neatly down his shoulders. "It was a yes or no question."

"Yes and no," was all Sasori would say on the matter, turning to his desk. The boy was sure to figure it out soon enough; there wasn't much point in telling him now.

"Whatever you mean by that," Deidara said, ignoring Sasori's answer. "I think you look much better that way - even if you are a pretty faced red head."

"Are you trying to piss me off?" He snapped, sliding into his chair. If he looked at the boy now, the desire to break him in two would become overwhelming. Turning his attention to a wooden arm strewn on his desk, he checked to see if it needed perfecting (though he knew it did not).

"No," Deidara said, carefully picking his next few words. "I'm simply giving you my opinion as an artist."

"I don't care about your opinion," Sasori replied without missing a beat, twisting a finger on the hand to appear occupied. "You're the one who thinks explosions are art."

Deidara sighed. "You don't understand... it's much more than that," he explained. "I can see colors there, like no one has ever laid eyes on - or will lay eyes upon. The living creature that perishes... it leaves this world with something memorable, once it has fulfilled it's purpose." Sasori turned round in his chair to look at the boy. Deidara was staring at the ceiling, lost in his own talk. He looked back at the dismembered arm on his desk, unwilling to admit the talk had made some sense.

_**Spectrum**__: this band or series of colors together with extensions at the ends that are not visible to the eye, but that can be studied by means of photography, heat effects, etc., and that are produced by the dispersion of radiant energy other than ordinary light rays._

"Won't you teach me, _Master_ Sasori?" the blond boy pleaded, trying his best to look as if he were in desperate need of his partner's advice.

"Leave me alone, brat," Sasori responded without hearing him, too focused on his new puppet to bother. During the past few weeks, Deidara's pestering had become the clicking of soft wood.

"You've made thousands of puppets, Master!" Deidara argued. "There must be something I could learn!"

This caught his attention. "I thought what I did wasn't real art," Sasori replied with heavy sarcasm. "Why are you calling me 'master' anyway?"

"Because you're a master of your occupation." He spoke as if it were obvious. "I said what I did was art, but I never said anything negative about your puppets."

"What do you think of my puppets, then?" Sasori asked, half curious at what Deidara's response would be.

"Honestly?"

"Yes."

"They aren't nearly as spectacular my explosions, but they're definitely something," Deidara said halfheartedly.

"Then I have no desire to teach someone who has no appreciation for real beauty," was Sasori's final answer on the matter.

"Oh, come on!" he whined. "This is what will help me defeat Itachi!" As soon as the words were out, Deidara clapped both hands over his mouth, blue eyes frozen wide.

"_That_ was the reason for your annoyance?" Anger was filling inside him, threatening to become volatile. Deidara dashed to his bed and crawled underneath within seconds, avoiding the volcano he thought would erupt. If he had known Sasori for more than a few weeks, he would have known that he did not have bouts of anger, rather, he was usually exasperated. Even when the hours slowly crept by, the boy did not move from his cramped hiding place.

_**Belong**__: to be in the relation of a member, adherent, inhabitant, etc. (usually followed by to)._

"Close your eyes," Deidara said, the smile sticking to his elated voice.

"Why do you take enjoyment in my suffering?" Sasori mumbled, letting the small boy steer him, holding his hand through the corridors of the cavern. He did not understand what Deidara was doing, which caused him to be impatient, especially because he could sense where they were headed through chakra sensors in his feet.

"It's not suffering!" Deidara insisted. "You should know what this is for; it's your own fault for not knowing."

"My fault?" he began, when the boy made an abrupt turn and stopped. Sasori took a moment to assess their surroundings with his other four senses - there were traces of blood on the walls, and a bloodthirsty aura in the room, as if an unsatisfied hunger lingered in their presence.

"Hidan and Kakazu's room?" he guessed.

"Correct. Keep your eyes closed - sit on the floor," Deidara instructed, pressing on Sasori's shoulders to lower him. The sound of footsteps became softer and farther, then louder and closer. Finally, Deidara sat across from him, placing an object between them.

"May I open my eyes now?" Sasori drawled in mock politeness.

"Yes, you may," Deidara said, the bright smile remaining in his voice. Sasori opened his eyes to Deidara grinning, surrounded by the blood thirsty darkness, save for a pool of light that shined on his face and small body. He looked to the light source - a small, brown round cake set between them covered with lit candles.

"I don't understand," he admitted after a moment.

"Today is your birthday!" Deidara yelled, as if his raised voice would convince him it were so. "You told me one year ago you were twenty five, remember? It was a few days after the occasion."

"I don't recall telling you the date. Hidan might kill us for using his room," he added as an afterthought.

"I found that on my own in a data book, and I worked it out with him and Kakazu," Deidara said impatiently, waving his hand. "Go on, blow out the candles!"

"This is stupid," Sasori declared, moving his palms farther behind himself and leaning back. "I haven't done this since I was five."

"I haven't done this at all," Deidara backfired. "I could never afford it, and no one would care anyway. I'm going to eat the cake when you're done, so just blow the candles out and make a wish." Sasori rolled his eyes, but blew out the small flames to silence the boy's pestering. Immediately after, Deidara flicked on a flash light he had conveniently brought with them.

"See? That wasn't so bad," he insisted, picking out the smoking candles and setting them at his side. When he had taken out the last candle, the poor cake seemed to be filled with tiny dark craters.

"I'm getting older," Sasori mumbled, staring into the multitude of cavities that seemed to echo.

"But age is wonderful - it shows the hardships you lived through, your maturity and wisdom." He sunk his hands into the cake, taking almost half in one scoop, nibbling the chocolate desert in his hands. "This is delicious, by the way."

"It's a shame I can't eat it," Sasori replied, rolling his eyes. "We should head back to our room."

"Good idea," he said, letting the mouths on his hands lick the last of the chocolate. Flicking the flashlight on with one hand and holding the remainders of the cake with the other, they left the room, walking through the seemingly endless corridors to their room on the right.

"I'm going to bed," Sasori lied as soon as they stepped into their room. He didn't want know what else the boy had planned, especially when it involved the chance of their room being blown apart.

"I would say that only pricks sleep early on their birthday," Deidara began. "But since it's you, I'll tell you to have a good night."

"Brat," was the last thing he said that night, slumping into his own bed. The lights flicked off, and thus the room became quiet, with only the white noise of clay being molded into fantastic shapes. Even with this, Sasori found himself unable to reach sleep - no matter how long he kept his eyes shut. The minutes crept by ever so slowly, the seconds becoming hours, and the minutes reverting to days. He was about to get up just to keep himself busy, when something pressed his arm. It was slight, barely noticeable to those whose senses were not under constant alert. Peeking under his eyelashes to seem asleep, he saw the boy laying on his side where there was little space. Sasori could tell he was really asleep, though how Deidara had managed to fall unconscious so quickly was beyond his thought. After debating to push him off the small twin bed, he pulled Deidara closer so he would not suffer through complaints of soreness the next day. Some minutes later, Sasori closed his eyes again, pleased to find sleep had come.

_**Chroma:**__ the purity of a color, or its freedom from white or gray._

Sasori willingly opens his eyes, despite his drowsiness and piercing headache. He supposes this what what people called "being low;" he is already sick of it. Now, he finds himself deciding between pushing through the aftereffect, or having another smoke in an attempt to forget. Some unspoken part of him says another cigarette is irrational, but he mostly wants to erase the blond boy, as each memory stung worse than his own poison. At least the physical pain subsided with the help of remedies, but emotional pain is always lurking, always piercing.

"One more drink and I'll be healed," Sasori says loudly in an attempt to convince himself, straining his dry voice. He rolls over in his lonely bed, checking the nightstand. There is a bottle of wine, though he doesn't remember getting out of bed. Grabbing the icy bottle, he sits up, downing its contents. Being a puppet had its advantages - such as not having many necessities, though he could consume liquids if he so desired. Now he had that desire, hoping the wine that burned his throat would be enough to dissolve the pain in his mind. When the bottle is half empty, he slams it back on the nightstand, falling into bed. The alcohol is already starting to take an effect; he has never felt so tired in his life...

_**Drunk**__: overcome or dominated by a strong feeling or emotion._

"Have you ever liked a girl so much, you just wanted to squeeze her till she died?" The question was sudden and unexpected, much like Deidara himself. He sat across from Sasori on the floor, a foot of space between them, which was covered with various tools and wooden body parts.

"I haven't liked any girls." Sasori was already tired of the conversation. He focused more on his work, attaching a limb to the wooden body in his arms.

"Never?" Deidara sounded disbelieving; Sasori could almost hear the boy rolling his eyes. "C'mon, Master, I promise I won't tell anyone." The title had stuck around - his own name sounded strange on Deidara's lips when the title was not mentioned.

"And I promise you that I'm telling the truth," Sasori answered, picking a wrench from the floor and attaching the arm. "I've never liked any women."

"Guys?" he asked halfheartedly.

"I'm this close to punching you," Sasori said, twisting a nail with his wrench ever so slightly.

"Do I sense denial?" He was obviously taking enjoyment at his partner's annoyance.

Sasori gritted his teeth. "No, you insolent _brat_, you don't sense anything because I've never felt a twinge of romantic attraction for anyone."

"What a prick you are," Deidara commented dryly.

He smirked. "Not as much of a prick as you."

"You're so kind," Deidara replied in a sarcastic tone. "Unlike you, I'm not afraid to admit my attraction to some people."

"You're twelve years old."

"What's your point?"

Sasori shook his head while Deidara laughed. It was a nice sound, he thought. Appearing dark to anyone else, but to those who knew him it was light and happy.

"Don't you want to know her name, Master Sasori?" Deidara asked, still grinning.

"Not particularly," he admitted. The right arm was finally finished; he turned the lifeless body in his arms over so he could attach the left.

"Well now I have to tell you," Deidara said with another laugh at Sasori's obvious exasperation. "Her name was Kurostuchi. She was my team mate; we had many fun times together."

"I can imagine," he muttered.

"I didn't think you were a pervert, Master." Deidara's blush was suddenly very apparent. "Just missions and spending time with her in general. I liked her for who she was, you know? I only left her because I had to."

"Technically, you didn't have to do anything," Sasori countered. "You could have stayed and lived with her."

"Not when something better called to me," he replied. "As much as I liked Kurostuchi, I knew my art was more important. But I couldn't forget her," he added.

"I didn't think you could be so sentimental," Sasori teased.

"I... Shut up," he muttered, turning away with cheeks stained red. "It's different when it's your teammate."

"Sure," Sasori said lightly. It was his turn to laugh.

_**Belong**__: to desire (a person or thing) to be (as specified)._

"Words are dull, aren't they, Master?"

"Yes, they are," he consented, trudging along the dark forest. It was one of the rare occasions that he had agreed with something Deidara said.

"I can't believe you willingly agreed with me on a subject matter," Deidara replied, seeming shocked. Perhaps he was, Sasori mused.

"I can't believe we're still having this discussion."

"I'm fifteen now," he suddenly stated.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Sasori turned to look at the boy, with long blond hair and raging blue eyes. He wasn't looking at a boy anymore, yet neither a man - his face had become sharp and rigid, and his head almost at Sasori's shoulders. A body more defined.

"Something wrong, Master?" he asked.

"No," Sasori replied after a moment, turning away. How could he have failed to notice something right in front of him? Deidara was a boy - mature and older, yes, but there was no way he could change that much in a few short years.

"Are you sure about that?" The smirk in his voice was apparent.

"Positive," Sasori said through gritted teeth, keeping himself focused on anything but the boy.

_**Hurricane**__: a storm of the most intense severity._

"This is absolutely awful," Deidara groaned. He was lying in Sasori's bed, covers pulled over as if it were cold. The window remained open, the fresh scents of spring hoping to coax him.

"What is?" Sasori asked, only half interested. He hadn't looked up from the materials on his desk.

"Nothing," Deidara replied, closing his eyes.

"Fine." If he didn't want to hold a conversation, Sasori wouldn't pry. It was some sort of unspoken agreement, that "nothing" should translate to "I don't want to talk about it" - or at least for Deidara, since Sasori never discussed whatever was bothering him.

"Is it warm in here to you, or is it just me?" His voice raised a pitch.

"I wouldn't know," Sasori replied, unsure whether or not he was joking. Deidara was almost sixteen, which meant they had been together for almost six and a half years. It was strange to think about. Surely, they had met only a short time ago, with six chocolate cakes in between, and one hell of a growth spurt on Deidara's part. If asked, Sasori would rave about how Deidara was the worst partner - constantly asking strange questions, and occasionally causing a small explosion in their very room. Though, to himself, Sasori considered himself somewhat lucky, for Deidara had understood him, in such a way he could not explain.

"Master?"

"Hm?"

"You're staring at me," he said, bright blue eyes looking straight back.

"I spaced out," Sasori admitted.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing." And with that, he returned to his work.

"Wait!" Deidara called out after a moment.

"What is it?" Sasori pretended to sound annoyed while pretending to be focused on the dangerous chemicals laying on his desk. With Deidara, showing emotion was not the smartest idea, especially when he had enough for nearly two people.

"I need to ask you a question." He pulled himself up on the bed, sitting crisscross underneath the blankets -which he had pulled around himself so Sasori could nothing but his face. "Have you ever felt..." He paused. "Like your head is burning because you can't stop thinking about women in a sexual way?"

"I'm not participating in this conversation," Sasori replied curtly, now completely focused on the task at hand.

"Come on, you were my age once! Didn't you ever see a girl and just get chills?"

"Not participating."

"So I should take that as a yes then, considering your denial and sudden concentration on your poisons. Taking that into consideration-"

"How many times do I have to say it?" Sasori snapped. "I've never liked anyone in a sexual way."

"Or romantic," Deidara said, his disbelief obvious.

"Correct."

"Liar," he said, falling back into bed. Through the creases of the covers, Sasori could see Deidara's arms wrapping around himself, as if doing so would help his strong emotion.

_**Lonely**__: standing apart; isolated._

"Agh!" Deidara breathed out, panting heavily on the cold wet ground.

"Hold still," Sasori ordered, continuing to stitch the gash on his front. They were in the depths of a cave to steal cover from the downpour outside, with only a small oil lamp Deidara had conveniently stolen, claiming to use it as a reference in his "art." Sasori hadn't brought many medical supplies, as they were usually left in Akatsuki's hideout. He couldn't remember the last time he regretted a decision so deeply. All he had was his own energy, a scalpel, and a couple of basic remedies that had already been used.

"Easy," Deidara mumbled under his breath as Sasori carefully stitched the wound. Deidara's hands suddenly wound around Sasori's neck, holding himself through the torture. He had not been given a single painkiller, or even a drop of anesthesia. Even when creating a human puppet, Sasori wouldn't keep the victim awake through the process.

"I said to hold still," Sasori said through gritted teeth, but Deidara only dug his fingernails into soft wood, as if his life depended on it. It very well might have, for the wound was two inches across, seven inches long, and an inch deep - not to mention other scrapes and bruises. To top it off, he was also shaking from the bitter cold of a stormy night. Sasori was used to fixing dead humans - not a real person, and one of the few he didn't want dead.

"I'm trying," he panted. "But this hurts."

"It'll be over soon." Sasori was not entirely sure he could keep that promise. He was less than halfway done with the stitch, and Deidara was in this state. His mind spun round itself while he worked, searching it's archive for other healing techniques. He could either use an energy transfer - which would at least take the entire night - or running out into the rain, buying a strong sleeping remedy, then taking another two hours to strengthen it into anesthesia. But leaving him vulnerable inside the eerie cave...

"You look worried," Deidara commented, his voice a little more than a whisper, as if it was painful to speak. Sasori did not answer - he was too focused on not letting the boy in front of him die, the boy of breathtaking colors and deathly hurricanes. Of all the people he had seen perish, somehow this felt different. Perhaps it was because he was now helping his victim, or that-

"You're worried about me." The words fell like raindrops, making Sasori stop the healing process to look at Deidara. He was smiling, the same one he had when they first met - a sliver of life in a depressing setting.

"Who wouldn't be?" Sasori said under his breath, looking back down at the wound. With a scalpel in one hand and the blue light of energy in the other, he went back to work. Deidara then relaxed his grip, burying his head into Sasori's shoulder. Sasori pushed back the strands of blond, continuing again. He worked without stopping the rest of the night.

_**Desire**__: a longing or craving, as for something that brings satisfaction or enjoyment._

"Damn," Sasori whispers. He doesn't want to wake up - not now, not ever. All he wants to do is have another smoke so he can return to his nonexistent reality. He reaches over to the nightstand, hand searching for a cigarette. Did Kakazu take those earlier...? Sasori thinks about it for a moment, even if he can not remember the event. He sighs, pulling himself up and getting out of bed. The feeling of standing is strange, as if he had been lying in bed for days on end. He puts his mind off of this, slipping his hand under the bed. Feeling a lump glued to the bottom, he rips it off, sticking the cigarette in his mouth. He then pulls off his left hand with his right, dumping out a single lighter, then promptly slides his left hand rightfully onto his arm. The smoke smells of sweet flowers, and the sweet flowers smell of smoke.

_**Characteristic**__: pertaining to, constituting, or indicating the character or peculiar quality of a person or thing; typical; distinctive._

There were many physical attributes that one suddenly noticed in another's sleep, Sasori mused. He had one finger tracing Deidara's cheek, keeping his other hand on Deidara's chest, checking his heart rate to make sure he was not awake. There was a faint flush in his cheeks, and - from the slow movement of Sasori's finger - he realized that Deidara had rough skin, the minuscule bumps creating a sort of texture; such a strange detail he had failed to notice before. His eyelids, in contrast to the majority of his skin, were silk; they were the smoothest part of his face. _Faded pink _was how he would describe the color of Deidara's lips, which had tiny crimson blemishes from biting, like that of pomegranate seeds. Gently lowering his bottom lip, Sasori could see his slightly yellowed teeth - a few of which were a bit crooked. Letting go, his lips joined back together. Deidara's hair sometimes became tangled because of it's thickness and length, achieving a slight wave throughout. Sasori absentmindedly ran his fingers through the rumpled gold, even when the knots in his hair became smooth. He did not know how much time had passed; it must have been many minutes before Sasori spoke. "Breathtaking," he said quietly. At this, Deidara's lips twitched ever so slightly, and his heartbeat skipped a pulse. Realizing he was awake, Sasori almost managed to leave - almost. Deidara had wrapped an arm around his waist, curious blue eyes staring in amusement.

"You think I'm breathtaking?" he asked, sounding thoroughly entertained.

"I was talking about something else, you twit." Too late - Deidara had already buried himself in Sasori's cloak, breathing slowly.

"You're dazzling," he said, his voice muffled by the cloak. Sasori sighed, trying to become exasperated, yet feeling quite the opposite.

_**Ablaze**__: Radiant with bright color._

"Don't you ever wish you were... I'm trying to think of a way to word this..." Deidara mused as he sculpted an object in hand. He was sitting on floor beside Sasori, who was watching. He had never noticed how talented Deidara really was - the way pulled and pinched the clay seemed effortless. "Do you ever wish you were in a human body?"

"Never." The words seemed to echo, for there was a short pause.

"That's interesting," he mumbled. "I thought you might have secretly missed it."

"Why would I? I don't have to eat, be hurt, or die from something stupid." Sasori explained this like it should have been common sense. Then again, Deidara wasn't exactly a common type of person.

"But don't you miss feeling?" He sounded annoyed that Sasori hadn't seen the initial question.

"Not really," Sasori replied, turning his head to rest on Deidara's shoulder. They were both silent for some minutes, save for the eventual explosion of the poor sculpture.

"Master?" Deidara finally spoke up.

"Yes?"

"Do you hate anyone?"

"Only most people."

"What about me?"

"Sometimes."

Deidara laughed at that. "I'm just asking because I absolutely _loathe_ Itachi, and I was wondering if you were capable of that type of extreme hate."

Sasori closed his eyes. "Unfortunately, I still have all of my emotion, though there isn't much of it."

"Have you ever wanted to kill someone so badly, you would be willing to kill yourself in the process?" Deidara asked suddenly, like the final words of a victim before they vanished into a million colors.

"Are you going to kill yourself?" At this point, Sasori raised his head, looking straight at Deidara, who seemed to be contemplating.

"Yes," he finally decided. "I'm not strong enough to defeat Itachi, if I'm being honest." He winced, as if simply admitting Itachi was stronger caused physical pain. "But I have to."

"You really don't," Sasori found himself saying. He wanted to say every word he could think of, knowing that one phrase just might convince Deidara not to throw his life away. But the words had left him stripped bare - alone with only a dry tongue, and nothing to say other than "don't." There was no way to stop a hurricane from destroying everything in it's path - only to run upon knowing it's course. Hesitantly, he placed his hand over Deidara's, hoping something - anything - would convince him otherwise.

"I know," he replied quietly. "But I have to."

_**Moira**__: a person's fate or destiny._

"Sasori?" a familiar voice called in the darkness.

"What is it?" he turned to see Deidara on the opposite side of the bed, a bag on his shoulder. "What are you-"

"Shhh!" He had walked over just in time to cover Sasori's mouth. "I'm leaving." He paused, then felt it safe to bring down his hand. "For good," he whispered, eyes flashing from the lightning outside.

"For where?" Sasori wondered aloud in the same volume, catching onto the sudden "don't make any noise" rule.

"Anywhere but here." Yet Deidara did not look angry, or even ecstatic to be leaving. He looked like a puppy being kicked off a street corner, with eyes begging to be left where he belonged.

"Stay," Sasori said out loud, ignoring the unsaid whisper rule.

"I can't, don't you understand?!" he cried in a whisper. "I have to become stronger, so that I can one day kill Itachi. I've worked most of my life to do so."

Sasori said nothing - only stared, hoping to convey a message with his eyes as Deidara had done so many times before. _How could he stop a hurricane?_ "Stay," he managed to finally repeat.

"I don't belong here," Deidara said more calmly, moving his hand to Sasori's cheek. "Ten years, and I still feel the same." His thumb moved slowly against soft wood. "Don't you think that's a sign?"

"You're just imagining it," Sasori said quickly. "You've just convinced yourself, and you didn't really believe it, not at firs-"

"You're wrong," Deidara said, a touch of anger slipping into his features. "Ever since I was forced to join Akatsuki, I've wanted nothing more than to leave. The past two years... I've thought and rethought about what I've wanted, and I've made a decision. Don't you trust that I've made the right one? I can't give up what I've worked on-" he was suddenly silenced by arms wrapping around his neck.

Sasori knew then, from what he had just heard, that Deidara wouldn't change his mind. He ran his fingers through the gold one last time - remembering the way it parted so easily through tangles, and the way his eyes seemed to beam every time he smiled. It was better for him to leave soon, then be captured and killed by Akatsuki, he decided. Deidara would never return. After some minutes, he forced himself to let go, slowly prying his fingers away. Deidara smiled, though it was one of sadness. "I'm going to miss you, Master." After a moment of hesitation, he leaned in and kissed him. It felt as if only a second had passed before he walked to the window, finally jumping outside - waiting for the bird that would lead him to freedom.

_**Conscience**__: the inner sense of what is right or wrong in one's conduct or motives, impelling one toward right action._

"You let him escape?" Pein hissed, looking straight at Sasori, who - for the millionth time - was grateful for his carapace, and the privacy that came with it.

"I don't know how he left," Sasori lied. "One moment, he was in bed, and the next morning he's gone." Even inside the carapace, he kept his features completely free of any expression, for fear that Pein would notice.

"And did he steal anything of value?" Ringed purple eyes narrowed in suspicion; a snake searching for evidence to swallow whole.

"Nothing but his clay imbedded with C3," Sasori replied calmly.

Pein nodded slowly at this. "Then Akatsuki will keep an open eye out for him. You are dismissed," he reluctantly added.

_Finally_, Sasori thought. He almost felt like smiling, for the victory of the scorpion against the snake was a rare occasion.

"Oh, and Sasori?" Pein called out, an odd tone in his voice.

"Yes?" he asked, making Hiroku come to an abrupt and unwanted stop. He closed his eyes, resting his head against rough wood.

"When we find Deidara," he said slowly, as if he was enjoying himself. "It will be your mission to carry out his death," he continued. "Is that understood?"

Sasori gritted his teeth in the darkness of the carapace. Even when mildly threatened, the snake always struck back.

"I understand, and will fulfill my task," Sasori replied monotonously, hobbling away in the depths of Hiroku. At that moment, he wanted to do anything but smile.

_**Promise**__: an express assurance on which expectation is to be based._

Sasori sighed, feeling frustrated at himself, though he wasn't sure of the reason. He'd created a few new puppets since his meeting with Pein several months prior. There was a lack of feeling accomplishment, or a desire to invent better work. Even now, he could not bring himself to create - no matter how long he stared at the ill perfected puppet on his desk. After a moment, he shoved the wood aside, ignoring the sudden thump when the materials crashed to the floor. Leaning back into his chair, he stared at the empty desk. It was a strange sight, after the years spent of always working - never stopping, not even for Deidara.

_Deidara_. Immediately Sasori grabbed an arm on the floor, throwing it against the wall. The years they had spent together were not easily suppressed. It was the simple things that struck him the most. There was no one speaking to silence the white noise, or a sudden explosion to nearly destroy the ceiling. He felt disappointment in waking up in an empty bed, and an emptiness in his hand. No longer bright laughs, but dead silence. Birthdays slipped into days forgotten, and the feeling of rough skin ceased to exist.

His logical side pestered constantly, urging Sasori to forget, yet he found himself unable to. It was as if the word _belong_ had been written on every wall, then crossed out, defiled, and scribbled upon. He finally stood up, walking out into the hall. It didn't matter what Kakazu did to him - so long as he still kept the memories while simultaneously repressing them. Without checking, he entered Kakazu and Hidan's room (who had luckily left) and checked under a bed. Sure enough, he pulled out a handful of cigarettes. Stuffing them in the pockets of his coat, he took enough to last him a few months, taking into consideration he would smoke one cigarette per day. Finally, he closed the drawer, walking hurriedly back to his room before Hidan or Kakazu arrived. Just down the hallway, he could see someone walking his towards him - Hidan. He stared straight ahead while Hidan passed by.

"And the scorpion finally leaves his cave!" he cheered while Sasori quickly shut the door to his own room. He proceeded to dump the cigarettes onto the floor, deciding where to hide them. After some thought, he decided a third would be glued underneath his bed, another third hidden inside the various compartments of his own body, and the rest placed on his desk. This way, when Kakazu came to steal them back, they would be in plain site. Taking a single cigarette off of the desk, he placed it in his mouth, searching for a lighter. He found one searching through the supplies previously shoved onto the floor, finally able to light his cigarette. The feeling of relaxation was overwhelming; he fell back into bed, analyzing the word _belong_ as he watched the smoke...

_**Conscience**__: the complex of ethical and moral principles that controls or inhibits the actions or thoughts of an individual._

"Hold him down!" are the first words Sasori awakens to, eyes opening wide with fear. Hidan has one hand around Sasori's neck, the other holding his blood red scythe. Sasori's eyes are fixed on the weapon, which is barely touching his heart container.

"Kakazu!" he breathes out, for the high is not entirely gone. "What are you doing?"

"Fixing you," Kakazu replies. Sasori doesn't need to see what lay underneath his mask to see his motive - it is conveyed in his eyes. Anger, pity.

"By killing me?" he croaks. Did Kakazu intend to kill him for stealing drugs? A part of him wishes it to be so, for then his suffering would end. But then, he had always feared death, and thus had avoided it to the best of his ability.

"No," Kakazu says, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "Here-" he raises up what looks like a bottle of wine - "is a remedy to treat depression. If the patient thinks about his problems, he will forget them." He moves closer, holding the opening right above Sasori's mouth. "In other words, this will make you forget whatever is on your mind."

"You can't!" Sasori cries out, though he is silenced by a small prick with Hidan's scythe. Looking down, Sasori sees the the crimson trickling onto his pale body. His eyes return to Kakazu, who is twisting off the cap.

"This is for your own good," Kakazu says firmly. "You're one of the few people I want dead, and I'm not letting you continue this pathetic route." And with this said, he pours the liquid down Sasori's throat. He thrashes and screams, calling out for Deidara. How could he forget the bright colors that somehow eased his pain? Or the violent storms that occurred whenever Itachi was near?

"He's not letting go so easily," Hidan mumbles, tightening his grip on the scythe.

"Oh, he'll break," Kakazu reassures. "Have a bit of patience."

"Deidara!" he screams, though his lips do not move, and not a noise is made - for the liquid is sliding down his throat. It is suddenly difficult to remember the color of his hair - blond or brown? - and whether he called himself an artist...

"He's getting closer," Kakazu noted, watching hazy brown eyes. "Just a little bit more." Sasori closes his eyes, squeezing them shut. He could barely remember what Deidara looked like, and now all he had was memories of birthdays and healing, of occasional arguing and rough skin. He repeats Deidara's name, but it seems unfamiliar, like trying to remember a code, but he isn't sure what for. The drink is filling his head - each memory is like muddy water, then disappears as soon as it comes. After a minute, he isn't sure why he is mumbling such a strange name, and decides to stop. He opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling, failing to notice Hidan cleaning the blood off of his body. After another minute, Sasori isn't sure why his voice is stinging, or why Hidan and Kakazu are in his room to begin with. He asks them to leave - and surprisingly they do so, without a single argument.

_That's odd_, Sasori thought. _I would think they came here on some sort of business..._

_**Nepenthe**__: anything inducing a pleasurable sensation of forgetfulness, especially of sorrow or trouble._

Sasori frowns at the cigarettes on his desk, contemplating possible reasons such filth is in his room. Perhaps that was the reason Hidan and Kakazu had entered earlier - though he has no theory as to why he received drugs, especially from someone as cheap as Kakazu. The cigarettes were a special mixture of marijuana and acid - enough pot to make one relax, and enough LSD to cause a bit of hallucination. He dumps the cigarettes in the trash. If Kakazu would still want them, he would know where to find them.

Today is a day for cleaning, which Sasori usually did not need, but had realized his room was a complete wreck. Papers and wood had been strewn all over the unkempt floor, his bed sheets ripped and unmade, and dust lingering everywhere. He blames Hidan - for no one, especially himself, would allow his room to ever be in such a state. After piling the papers neatly onto his desk, he opens the window. Leaning over the window sill, he stares at the beauty outside - a thin forest suffering the struggles of winter, and an afternoon sun, gazing down at the world below. Sasori decides to leave the window open, for he is fairly certain his disheveled room did not admit a pleasing smell. He uses a rag to clean all of the surfaces, frustrated at himself for not noticing before how much dust had accumulated. Everything is a blur before Hidan and Kakazu's arrival - for all he knew, he could have been in a drunken stupor. He would ask them later, for now, his poor room needed scrubbing. While cleaning the bed post, he senses a person heading towards him. Not from the hallway - but from outside. He turns to the window, seeing a teenager climb inside, who has strikingly long blond hair and ragged blue clothing. The blond looks at him, smiling. "I came back for you, Master," he says, his features and tone implying that he knew Sasori, who frowns, trying to think of another time they had seen each other previously. After a moment of silence, the blond continues. "I know I've said over and over again I don't belong to anyone, but..." he trails off, shifting his gaze towards the desk.

Sasori breaks the the uncomfortable pause. "Leave."

The blond's eyes widen. "But why? You aren't angry with me, are you?"

"How could I be angry with someone I've never heard of?" he replies, returning to work. The kid wasn't the brightest bulb in the drawer, he concluded.

"It's me, Deidara!" he cries out, clearly exasperated. "I know my hair has gotten a bit longer, but I don't think I've changed that much." He is suddenly right next to Sasori, their faces much too close.

"I don't know you," Sasori says impatiently. "And you happen to be pissing me off. Now _leave_."

"Oh no," he whispered, sudden worry touching onto his features. "No, no, no! They got you!" he says, fingers touching Sasori's cheek.

"Don't do that," he says, pushing Deidara's hand away.

"Master, you've got to remember me!" he yells, clutching Sasori's cloak. "You've got to! I don't have anything left! Not my art, or defeating Itachi, just..." Deidara's eyes are not desperate or angry as he looks at Sasori. _Realization, crestfallen, hopeless._

"I've never seen you before in my life," Sasori answers after a moment. Deidara lowers his gaze, turning round and standing up. "Is there something wrong?" Sasori finds himself asking.

"Nothing," he mumbles. "We were just... partners. It was a long time ago. I remembered some things I had left behind, so I came back for them."

"Help yourself." Sasori stands up and walks over to his desk, watching Deidara. The last thing he wanted was the strange blond stealing anything of value. Deidara takes a vile of poison, and a strange white object Sasori hadn't noticed on the nightstand.

"Master?" he says after some minutes of silence.

"That isn't my name, you spoiled brat."

"Sasori." The annoyance in his presence is obvious.

"What is it now?" Sasori wonders aloud as Deidara walks towards him, suddenly leaning in, kissing him right on the mouth. Before Sasori can shove him away, Deidara is already by the window. "What are you-!"

"Good-bye!" he calls from outside. Sasori stands by the window, seeing Deidara on a giant winged creature. A storm on white clouds, slipping through the sky; a hurricane never to return. Sasori touches his cheek, feeling a drop of salt water. Strange, it isn't raining outside.

_**Belong**__: to be proper or due; be properly or appropriately placed, situated, etc._

_-fin-_


End file.
